


Great Minds need a Turk

by FFlove190



Series: Hojo Week 2018 [5]
Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anal, Consensual Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral, PWP, Threesome, Young!Hojo (Compilation of FFVII), bareback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 04:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14608950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FFlove190/pseuds/FFlove190
Summary: Gast invites Vincent for a little chat with Hojo





	Great Minds need a Turk

**Author's Note:**

> This was just supposed to be Gast, but not gunna lie I can appreciate some good Hojo/Vincent. 
> 
> Hojo Week Day 5: Nibelheim
> 
> Unbeta;d

There were things Hojo did for science. Things like hours of tedious data entry and re-entry, validation and checks. 

 

“You’re doing so well.” Hands in his hair, careful and guiding. 

 

Then there were the things Hojo did for his career. Sucking up to his superiors, staging accidents, bribing Turks to look the other way. 

 

“Keep breathing, yes good, just like that.” Hands on his neck, protective and warm. 

 

And then there were the things Hojo did just for himself. Those things ended up being the most complicated, the things that happened in the worst time and worst place. 

 

“Is-is this fine?” Hands on his hips, tentative and concerned. 

 

Hojo pressed back into Vincent. He couldn’t speak, but he made a noise of acknowledgement at Vincent’s worry. The head of the dick Hojo had thirsted over for months was finally pressed against his asshole: a teasing warmth. Just a hint of what was about to  _ finally _ happen.

 

“Go slow, Valentine, he’s new to this.” Gast said it gently. Hojo didn’t know why the old man thought that was true, like he couldn’t fathom a man willingly getting on his knees to suck a cock. Hojo could cut the guy some slack: he’d approached the whole situation terribly last year, still a little jittery at the prospect of working with  _ the  _ Gast Faremis on a project beyond his dreams; added onto that was the fact that their encounters were so few and far between so Hojo never really got a chance to show off his skills. 

 

Hojo just swallowed more of Gast’s cock. Well, okay, Hojo was terrible at sucking cock; just barely had a passing grade. It was just a preference, really; Hojo didn’t like getting on his knees and looking up to someone who was half-assed about a face fuck. 

 

But with Vincent? Hojo could forsee himself practicing a lot on Vincent. Vincent was a Turk: Turks didn’t do things by halves. 

 

Vincent entered Hojo slowly, like he hadn’t spent the past ten minutes prepping him; his meat was hot and welcome. Hojo felt his eyes rolling back into his head. Fucking  _ finally _ . 

 

Gast never fucked Hojo and none of the assistants had shown a sliver of interest and the locals were out of the question, it had just been Hojo and his toys, all alone in Nibelheim. What a nightmare. 

 

Hojo moaned as Vincent’s dick filled him: a real dick was so warm, it hit all the right spots, and most importantly it wasn’t under Hojo’s control. It’s why he loved having a partner: so much of his life was calculated that sometimes he needed to let someone else do the calculating. 

 

Even if he wanted Vincent to ram him into the bedsheets, Vincent wouldn’t: his touch was so slow and gentle that it was a fucking tease. Hojo wanted to tell Vincent that he could take it, that he could take anything; but his mouth was occupied. Gast’s hands were warm against the back of Hojo’s neck, thumbs rubbing circles: up and down his head like he was a well loved pet.

 

Vincent was still pressing in entering at a pace that would drive lesser men mad. Hojo rolled his hips backwards; Vincent’s nails bit into Hojo’s hips, but he didn’t take the bait.

 

“Careful, Valentine. I know that look in your eye. This boy is a valuable researcher, you can’t just use him as you please.” Gast was still petting him, his voice affectionate. Hojo wasn’t a boy, he was older than Vincent. But that sort of thing didn’t matter to Gast. 

 

A spark of hope flickered in Hojo’s chest: this wasn’t Vincent’s first time with a butt. Hojo couldn’t speak to verify, couldn’t look back to see the expression that caught Gast’s interest, but Vincent’s control spoke enough. Vincent’s thrusts were explorative and long and most of all torturously slow; the heat teased against Hojo’s prostate and he was a moaning, gagging mess. 

 

His fingers clutched the bedding and he struggled to breath: he wanted  _ more _ . 

 

“Oh my, are you alright?” Hojo was beyond alright. Could Gast not tell? Was he truly that ignorant, him a great scientist? Gast’s cock escaped Hojo’s mouth, despite his desperate suction to keep it there; he was moaning again, desperate for something to occupy his mouth. 

 

But Gast expected an answer. 

 

So Hojo managed an “I’m fine” between pants. 

 

The freedom did allow him to do one thing he couldn’t before. Hojo looked over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Vincent’s. The Turk was shirtless, his wine eyes dark, and his expression was knowing, controlling - smirking without smirking. It made Hojo shiver with anticipation. He arched his back, trying to get a better angle, faster thrusts and rolled his hips. He needed  _ more.  _ “I’m fine.”

 

“If you say so.” Clearly disbelieving, Gast was guiding his aging dick back into Hojo’s mouth. Hojo didn’t care anymore. He wanted to be used so thoroughly that he wouldn’t be able to walk straight tomorrow. But Vincent was unphased, his thrusts were gentle and constant and making Hojo’s dick cry over the sheets.

 

Was Vincent waiting for Gast to leave? Hojo’s lust riddled mind, far too gone for proper logic, decided this must be the case. If Gast came, he would feel awkward and leave (per usual). And then Vincent would be free to fuck Hojo senseless. 

 

Hojo used every trick he knew to make Gast cum. He was putting in all of his effort now with Vincent’s dick slowly fucking him up. It didn’t take long at all once Hojo put his mind to it.

 

Hojo swallowed the spunk, too far gone to care about the flavor or even play at being proper with Gast. He wanted to be used. He wanted Vincent to fuck him raw to paint his body in semen, he wanted to be  _ marked _ . 

 

“Oh-oh my.” Gast was already putting his deflating penis away. “That was… good job.” And awkward pat. 

 

Hojo was panting, clenching at the bedsheets. Gast was going to leave and Vincent would be  _ all  _ his. 

 

Gast looked between Vincent and Hojo. “Do you want me to stay? Will you be alright, boy?” 

 

Hojo licked his lips. He could feel how swollen they were he could taste the spunk on them. He didn’t give a damn. He managed this surprisingly coherent sentence, “Valentine is my bodyguard. He’ll make certain no harm comes to me.” 

 

“Well, then,” Gast looked between them again, where their bodies were connected; he looked particularly discomfited by it. “I’ll just… go back to my room. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

 

They didn’t change position until the door clicked shut behind Gast. Vincent pulled out and flipped Hojo expertly, pushing Hojo’s bony knees into Hojo’s chest as he lifted Hojo’s ass. Hojo automatically grabbed at his thighs to hold himself open. Hojo was moaning like a two gil whore faking orgasm: he  _ loved _ this position. 

 

“New to this, huh?” Vincent smiled dangerously, his dick teasing at Hojo’s hole again. 

 

“A common misconception.” Hojo panted as he tried to roll his hips, but Vincent was stronger than him and he wasn’t going anywhere. No control. 

 

“Really.” Vincent leaned close, his hair flowing around Hojo like a curtain and his eyes mesmerizing. “How not new to this are you?”

 

Hojo loved the challenge in Vincent’s eyes. “I can take everything you can give me.” 

 

“Everything, huh?” Vincent smirked. “I like the sound of that.” 

 

Hojo was about to respond; all the air left him when Vincent’s dick slammed back into him. Gone was the slow, teasingly monotonous speed of before; this was rough, it was hot, it made Hojo’s shiver. Hojo’s moans would have woken the whole hamlet if Vincent hadn’t shut him up with a kiss. 

 

It was a great kiss. It tasted like chocolate and chapstick. Hojo released his thighs, Vincent immediately took up the slack and hiked his ass higher, as Hojo threw his arms around Vincent: he dug his fingers into that alabaster skin. 

 

Hojo didn’t know how long they were like that - time lost it’s meaning with Vincent’s mouth and his dick touching everything that needed to be touched, and his body a molten warmth that was almost suffocating. 

 

Vincent came with a hiss - like he didn’t want anyone to hear that he could feel pleasure. His thrusts grew jerky as his spunk coated Hojo’s insides - ah, fuck, what a wonderful feeling. Vincent reached down and rapidly jacked Hojo’s cock, still milking his own orgasm.

 

Hojo came not long after, moaning and groaning into Vincent's mouth. 

 

And it was over. They were there, on the dirty bed - Vincent licking up the mess across Hojo’s front and down to his ass and then returning for a kiss. Hojo barely had breath to kiss back. They were wound together tightly, leg upon leg, arms on the side - rubbing, petting, hugging. 

 

It was the affection so few men were willing to give. 

 

“I can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.” Vincent said between kisses, before trailing some along to Hojo’s ears. 

 

Hojo enjoyed the ticklish sensation, running his fingers along Vincent’s back. “Did you simply ignore my advances or were you playing it safe?”

 

“I’m not supposed to fuck you.” Vincent said seriously. There were rules for a reason, Hojo knew, but he didn’t care. Getting into Vincent’s pants had been his greatest achievement in Nibelheim to date and he was going to celebrate. 

 

“Well you’re not fucking me. I’m fucking you.” Hojo rolled them until he was on top one leg between Vincent’s. “You don’t mind?” 

 

Vincent just smiled and pulled Hojo down by the hair until they were kissing again. “Never.”


End file.
